


to know oneself

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dialogue Heavy, Dubious Ethics, Existential Crisis, Gen, Memory Loss, this is a 'soft T'--there's no violence or anything but there are moral dilemmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 17:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: When the Allspark energy brings Megatron back online, it doesn't restore everything. Without his memories, he ignorantly places himself at the mercy of Optimus Prime. Nobody knows what to do about the situation, least of all Optimus, but he has an idea.





	to know oneself

**Author's Note:**

> more TFA and more Megatron because This Is Who I Am Now!

A surge of energy created awareness where there had once been none. In that first moment he couldn’t think, nor could he tell what he was feeling for how the surge taxed his system. As it began to fade, his mind became clear enough for him to notice things and to ask questions. First and foremost among them was simply,  _ Who am I? _

He had no idea.

Heavy despair squeezed him like a vice. He knew nothing about himself. What was he supposed to do now? He could turn on his optics, but what was the point? He didn’t know who he was. Surely he would see nothing that could help him with that.

He was trapped in the darkness with himself, a stranger.

Over interminable seconds, he gave up on his newfound ability to think and existed, paralyzed, in the void of his mind. Existential terror throbbed from the deepest pit of his being, pulling him in with gravity.

Diagnostic reports returned with disappointing news; he had no body and couldn’t move. Nobody was around to help him, and he couldn’t leave to find help. There was no point to anything.

Then, perhaps thirty seconds later, he realzed he was connected to something. He pinged the bond, and found on the other end a device that was foreign but somehow compatible with his systems. He could talk to it! There was no help here, but it comforted him to talk.

In the following seconds, he gained the confidence to turn on his optics and look at his world. His reports were accurate: he was nothing but a head, thoguh a disembodied hand lay close by that he recognized as his own. He was supposed to have a complete body, and he should have been able to control that hand. The schematics were in his processor. They didn’t come with a name.

Before him was the device he had pinged, a blank screen. He turned it on and it displayed a scene showing other bots in a place he didn’t recognize. One of them was speaking, quite loudly.

“ _ I _ defeated Megatron! I planted the device that overloaded his circuitry!” The bot looked quite pleased as he walked forward. “His fate was sealed before he even reached your ship!”

He turned off the screen, finding no enrichment in the content. Was there nothing here to help him ease his amnesiac pain? Could he not find even a simple distraction from the empty agony in the center of his being, the place where  _ his name _ was supposed to go?

There was something more he could do, he realized. His vocalizer worked perfectly. He tested it once or twice, then unleashed the loudest, highest-pitched shriek he could produce. If he could hear things, then so could other bots, and someone might hear him in here.

A portion of the wall in front of him separated, and a small creature stepped into the room. He had never seen anything like this. Recognizing bots was instinctive, but this creature was nowhere in his limited database.

“What are you?” he asked.

The creature yelped and focused on him. “Y-you can talk! Did you make that terrible noise?”

“Yes. Who am I?”

“I had hoped, if you ever awoke, that you would tell me…”

Cold despair began to suck the heat from him once more. “I cannot just not know who I am,” he snapped. “Who are you?”

The creature cringed. “I am Professor Isaac Sumdac. I am a human, and you are in my lab. A-are you perhaps one of the Autobots?”

He didn’t know what Autobots were, or how to tell if he was one, but it was an Identity, and he clung to it. “Yes!  _ I _ am an  _ Autobot _ .”

“Oh, your friends will be very unhappy with me…”

“I have friends? What are those?”

“My, you do not remember much, do you?” He sighed. “I will call the Autobots and let them know I have you. In the meantime, is there, ah, anything you need?”

“A name. I need a name.”

“Your friends will know who you are, don’t worry. They have a medic and he can see about restoring your memories. I will explain the situation to them and everything will be fine.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of this. He tapped some buttons on a device on the counter and then picked it up, bringing it to the side of his head and saying, seemingly to the air, “Yes, Sari? Bring the Autobots. It’s urgent. Yes, all of them. No, there is no danger. I just need them here as soon as possible.”

The ordeal wasn’t over yet, but it would be soon, and that calmed him. His pain seemed more manageable now that he knew for certain it would end. He occupied himself by wondering what Autobots were like. Were they like the one he saw on the screen?

* * *

Optimus stood on the first floor of Sumdac Tower with the rest of his team. Professor Sumdac gave them all grave looks, and he knew it was going to be bad news; he just couldn’t imagine what it would be exactly.

“There is no easy way to say this,” Sumdac said. He explained how he found a severed robotic head in his backyard during his youth, and how he reverse-engineered the technology to create his company and revolutionize the world. Optimus was stunned, unsure how to react, but he could tell that some of his teammates were inflamed by the story.

“You stole our tech!” Bumblebee blurted. “Chopped up some poor bot’s head for parts!”

“Please, look at this way,” Sumdac said. “His fate made Earth better. And I never chopped him up! I have kept him safe and preserved in my personal lab this entire time. In fact…” He took a breath. “That is the real reason for my summons. Today, after fifty years, the head woke up! I don’t know how, but he’s alive!”

Optimus felt he should have been glad to hear that, but instead, anxiety itched at his processor.

Ratchet elucidated his feelings for him. “We all remember fifty years ago, don’t we?” He turned to the rest of the group. “Who was the only other bot with us on that ship?  _ Who could have crashed on Earth _ ?”

“Megatron,” Optimus said.

Bulkhead stomped, raising Sari into the air a good two feet. “You’ve been hiding Megatron in your lab?!”

Sumdac raised shaking hands in a placating gesture. “I do not know who Megatron is!”

“Leader of the Decepticons? Real bad bot?”

“Bumblebee,” Optimus said, “he’s a human. Nobody here knows anything about our war.”

“Megatron doesn’t seem to know who he is either,” Sumdac said. “I discovered him when he, well, I suppose he screamed. It was some kind of terrible noise. He demanded I tell him who he was, and when I asked if he was an Autobot, he immediately said yes. I trusted him because it sounded reasonable.”

“Megatron would never lie about being an Autobot,” Ratchet said. “As unbelievable as it sounds, he’s definitely lost his memory.”

“No way,” Bumblebee said. “It’s a trick! Gotta be!”

“He did burn up in the atmosphere,” Optimus said. Giving Sumdac a look, he went on, “After trying to kill us all.”

Sumdac wrung his hands. “I truly thought he was your friend, and that you would want to know. Should I have...destroyed him?”

“Yes,” Bulkhead said.

“Professor Sumdac,” Prowl said, stepping forward, “can we see him? To verify everything for ourselves?”

“As it happens, I have an elevator to my lab large enough to fit robots your size. Follow me.”

As they followed him, some of the shock fell from Optimus. Megatron was alive and here at their mercy; not only defenseless, but without his memories and without awareness of the true extent of his situation. Despite that, Optimus shook. Going to meet one such as Megatron would never be comfortable, no matter the conditions.

Sumdac pressed a button and a bulkhead in the wall lifted with a mechanical drone. The elevator was high enough that they could all stand up straight, though Optimus and Bulkhead had to duck under the entrance. It felt like the mechanism was straining to raise all of them at once, but he didn’t fear it would break.

“This is seriously weird,” Sari said, eyeing Sumdac. “Why didn’t you tell me about the head in your lab? Is that why I was never allowed in?”

“Yes, Sari.” He returned her look with one of profound sadness. “I have kept...many things from you. Important things. You have to believe that I had my reasons.”

She tilted her head at him, but turned to Optimus. “So what are you gonna do to Megatron?”

“I don’t know,” Optimus said. “This is all so sudden and unexpected.”

“Nobody would expect an infamous warlord to fall into our laps,” Ratchet said. “It’s almost too perfect. It almost feels like a trick.”

All eyes fell on Sumdac. The comment didn’t have time to settle; light began to edge over the group as the elevator approached its destination. Whatever else was in the room didn’t matter. Optimus’s optics immediately went to Megatron, and his tubes ran cold for more than one reason. Seeing him again was frightful enough, but he couldn’t stop a stab of empathetic pain at seeing another bot so damaged.

Ratchet hissed beside him, echoing that sentiment. “Even if it’s Megatron,” he mumbled, “it’s hard to look at.”

The others seemed to be paralyzed with shock. Megatron noticed them and his single functioning optic widened.

“Friends?” he asked.

Optimus gave in. “Yes. Hello, Megatron.” His voice was stiff and awkward. He wasn’t a good liar.

The others looked at him with a mixture of derision and confusion, but Prowl’s expression was knowing. Megatron’s optic ballooned further. “My name is Megatron…?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, frien—”

“Actually he’s lying,” Bumblebee said. “We’re—”

“Bumblebee!” Prowl yelled, clamping a servo over Bumblebee’s intake. “Don’t be so cruel! He’s just awoken and he must be very confused already, don’t play tricks like that!”

Optimus didn’t know Bumblebee was capable of so much anger. Bulkhead, too, glowered in the background at Prowl.

Prowl turned back to Megatron. “We’re all very happy to see you again, and as you can see, some of us are more eager than others for things to return to normal.”

“He tells jokes? How cute.”

Bumblebee looked ready to die.

“Of course we all understand,” Prowl went on, levelling looks at his teammates, “that things can’t go back to normal so quickly, because you’re very hurt and also  _ you don’t remember anything, including us _ .”

“Yes…” Megatron looked down sadly. “Will it take a long time to fix me? Professor Sumdac said you had a medic with you. I inferred from context that a medic is someone who fixes.”

“That would be Ratchet.” The bot in question shot Optimus a reproachful glare. “...Will you give us a minute? We...we, uh…”

“We need to discuss things,” Prowl said, jumping in with something approaching enthusiasm. “We’d rather not distress you in your delicate state so we’re going to go into another room, okay?”

“Oh, can’t  _ one _ of you stay?” Megatron looked at Bumblebee.

“Nope,” Bumblebee snapped. “It’s gotta be all of us! Team effort!” He slammed the button to make the elevator descend. To his credit, he held himself until it was certain they were out of earshot. “What the slag was all that!”

Optimus and Prowl stood on one side of the elevator, opposing Bee and Bulkhead. Ratchet stood between the groups, and the Sumdacs relegated themselves to a spectating corner.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Optimus said.

Bulkhead jabbed a pincer at him. “You an’ Prowl were actin’ like we really were friends with Megatron! Did all that stasis fry your processors?”

Prowl folded his arms. “Do you want an explanation? Because I have one. I believe all life is precious, and that we shouldn’t take a life if we don’t need to.”

“Even Megatron?”

“He tried to kill us,” Bumblebee said.

“That’s all true, but he doesn’t remember it. That’s why I stopped you in there, I was worried you’d trigger a memory. He’d might as well be a different bot now. He’s—”

“Don’t say it,” Ratchet muttered.

“—innocent, in a way.”

“Prowl’s right,” Optimus said. “I don’t condone killing someone when they’re defenseless.”

“Okay, then, don’t kill him,” Bumblebee said. “ _ Execute _ him for his  _ crimes _ . Prisoners are defenseless too but you think offline row inmates should get de-sparked, don’t you?” He paused. “Aw, frag, you don’t believe in the offline penalty either?!”

“I never did like it,” Optimus said. “But even if I did, a criminal shouldn’t be executed for a crime he doesn’t know he committed.”

“But what if he gets his memories back?” Bulkhead asked. A thoughtful expression had come over his face. Bumblebee still looked obstinate, but Bulkhead might agree with a little more persuasion.

“We don’t know if he can or not,” Ratchet said.

“You wanna restore his memory before ripping out his processor?” Bumblebee asked with genuine confusion. “That’s weird.”

“What? No,” Optimus said. “I mean I don’t want to kill him at all. If I don’t have to—Ratchet, I know you were in the war and it’s difficult, but I need you to perform a diagnostic scan on him.” He glanced around at the team. “If his memory loss is permanent, then we leave him alone. Actually, we help him.”

“Help him?” came a chorus of perplexed bots.

“We’re Autobots. It’s our duty. What do you say, Ratchet?”

He sighed. “All right, Prime. I’m only agreeing because I dislike killing as much as you do.”

“Then why aren’t you on our side?”

He looked away. “Because sometimes you do what you must...even when it doesn’t make sense.”

* * *

Optimus and Bulkhead’s helms had barely crested the floor when Megatron spoke. “I was thinking about my name and I remembered something.”

Everyone flinched.

“When I first woke I found this screen,” Megatron went on, unsuspecting, “and there was this bot who mentioned me. He said he planted a device that overloaded my circuits, or something like that.”

“Starscream,” Optimus said. “That was Starscream you saw, and it’s true. He planted a bomb on your back.”

“Is he the reason I’m like this?”

He found himself pausing before a blatant lie again, and once more Prowl came to his rescue. “Yes,” he said.

“But why would he do that? What did I do to Starscream?”

“There’s a lot you don’t remember about us or the world. It’s okay. Ratchet’s going to take a look at you and tell us what he can do.”

Ratchet’s shoulders were hunched as he marched over to the head. He moved to the back, where he opened a panel in his abdomen to take out a tool. Next he opened the back of Megatron’s head.

“That twinges,” he said as sparks flew from Ratchet’s servo.

“I’m just doing some diagnostic work. It’ll be over soon.”

Megatron chattered to the team while Ratchet worked. Prowl took over the conversation, others only speaking if they were prompted. He was so disconcerting—so curious, asking questions, soaking up everything he saw and heard.  _ What’s this? What’s that? Who are you all? What are Autobots? What are Decepticons? Where is Cybertron? _ It was like listening to a protoform.

“I wish we knew how you came back online,” Prowl said.

“I think I have an idea about that,” Sari said, walking up to him and lifting her key. “It happened this morning, right? I used my key to open the door. It might have caused some kind of Allspark energy surge?”

“It’s possible,” Ratchet said from across the room.

“What’s the Allspark?” Megatron asked. “What’s my key?” Their conversation continued along those lines.

After an hour, Ratchet closed up the head and descended. Megatron watched him pointedly. “Doctor Ratchet? Tell me what you found?”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he replied over his shoulder. “I’d like to talk to my—our team.”

This time the Sumdacs stayed with Megatron. Sari looked worriedly at them as they disappeared down the elevator shaft.

“His memories are intact,” Ratchet said. “They’re locked behind a wall of scrambled code. I don’t know if his self-repair can scratch that. If Sari’s correct and her key did revive him, then it might give him the boost he needs. Any little thing could trigger a memory, and it could have a cascading effect.”

“So we have to destroy him,” Bumblebee said.

“Not so fast,” Optimus said. “Ratchet, can you remove the code?”

His optics bulged out. “Remove code from a processor? Are you crazy?! Of course I can do it, but why the slag would you want to?”

“Delete his memories. Scramble his processor so thoroughly even the Allspark can’t restore the data. It’s possible, isn’t it? You could take out his memory cells and replace them with empty ones. The Allspark can’t restore what doesn’t exist.”

“You’d might as well kill him at that point,” Ratchet said. “He’d be a completely different bot.”

“I have a suggestion,” Bulkhead said, raising a servo. “Let’s call the Elite Guard.”

“Hey, yeah! We can let them offline him.” Bumblebee scratched his chin. “Sentinel would take the credit though…”

Optimus fidgeted on the spot. He felt he was at a crossroads, and once he chose a path, he couldn’t turn back. “We won’t tell Ultra Magnus about him. Not yet.”

“Is it just me, or is Boss Bot on the fritz?”

“The Elite Guard  _ will _ kill him, regardless of his condition,” Optimus said. “We’d might as well do it ourselves if we were going to do that.”

Bumblebee threw up his servos. “I don’t understand why you don’t  _ want _ to do that! If you were to report to Magnus that you were the one who offlined Megatron, not only would you get your post at the Elite Guard back, but you’d be the biggest hero in history!”

“It’s not about prestige for me, Bumblebee, it’s about doing the right thing.”

“And you think this is right?”

“I don’t know!” Optimus covered his face with a servo. “Look, we don’t have to make a decision right away. Let’s take some time to cool down and think things over. How about an hour? We’ll meet back here and take a vote. Kill him or erase his memories.”

The bots dispersed. Prowl and Ratchet left the building, Bumblebee went upstairs, and Bulkhead sat in the lobby. Optimus didn’t leave the elevator. His thoughts would be just as muddled there as anywhere else—Prowl felt clearer in nature, Ratchet liked to tinker, Bee was no doubt unloading his frustrations on Sari, and Bulkhead needed quiet.

Optimus stood rooted to the spot and thought the hour down to minutes. When half of it was gone, he’d done nothing to resolve his feelings, bouncing from one issue to the other back and forth. At twenty minutes until the hour, Sari appeared at the entrance of the elevator.

“Hey, Prime,” she said.

“Hello, Sari. I’m still thinking.”

“Really?” Sari frowned. “Bee and Bulkster are all made up. Prowl and Ratchet too.”

Optimus glanced at her. “It’s not simple for any of us.”

“It’s not?” Sari chirped. “Just disconnect him from all the computers ‘n junk ‘n let him sit in that dark room forever. Then even if he gets his memories back, he can’t do anything about it.”

He considered it but dismissed it quickly. “That would be torture. He wouldn’t understand why we were treating him like that.”

Sari folded her arms. “So...first you wanna keep him alive, then you wanna destroy his memories, and now you want to spend time with him like he’s your friend?”

“It’s not that, Sari. It’s just that we’re Autobots, and we have a duty to protect all sentient life.” When he said it, his conviction grew. “He’s our responsibility regardless of what we decide to do. If we erase his memories, it would only be right of us to care for him. Who knows, maybe he’d turn out to be an Autobot.”

Sari gave him a confused look and wandered off. Optimus continued to think, just to be sure of himself.

Killing Megatron was simple, but inexcusable. He  _ would not kill _ someone who couldn’t fight back, who thought he was their friend. That felt like betrayal, even if they weren’t friends in the first place. Obliterating his memories would be so similar to killing, it was true; the old Megatron would be gone, but a new one would inhabit his processor. There would be new memories. If he died, it would be the end.

Megatron had to live, but he couldn’t live as himself.

* * *

The others filtered in one by one. Prowl was first, nodding at Optimus before standing side by side with him. Next was Bumblebee, who gave the slightest of glares as he resumed his place by the opposite wall. Ratchet didn’t look at anyone, marching to the back and turning around to stare out at the hall. Bulkhead gave Optimus a reproachful glance as he entered and stood next to Bumblebee.

The votes were obvious, he thought, but it had to be official. “All right, now that we’ve had some time to think, let’s vote. No more arguing. Just state calmly and clearly what you want to do. I’ll go first.” Optimus checked his feelings, but he was as resolute as ever. “I vote to destroy Megatron’s memories and keep him alive.”

“I vote the same,” Prowl said.

“I vote to disconnect him from the computers and keep him locked in a room,” Bumblebee said, sounding triumphant.

“Bumblebee!” Bulkhead whined.

“What?”

“You were supposed to vote to offline him! Now I can only tie with them if Ratchet votes with me!”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to do that.” Bumblebee frowned at him. “I...I just thought it was a nice middle ground, you know? He’s not dead but not our problem either! I figured Boss Bot would like it.”

“I don’t, actually, Bumblebee. But you’re allowed to change your vote.”

“Okay then, I vote whatever Bulkhead said. Okay, you’re not angry at me anymore, right?”

“Whatever…”

Everyone’s optics fell upon Ratchet. “For spark’s sake,” he groaned. “I vote to keep him alive and erase his memories.”

“What?!”

“Doc bot! How could you?”

“Frag it, I’m a medic! It’s not my job to decide who lives and who dies!” Ratchet stepped over to Optimus’s side. “I’m putting my faith in the kid.”

“This is insane,” Bee snapped. “I can’t believe it! A veteran of the war, voting in Megatron’s interests!”

Ratchet’s face crumpled. “These are  _ my _ interests, ya little bug.”

“Little? Bug!?”

Bulkhead tapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go, Bumblebee. They don’t need our opinions.”

The two of them walked, fuming, out of the tower.

“Are they going to be okay?” Prowl asked.

“I hope so,” Optimus answered. “Thanks, Ratchet.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

* * *

“Where are Bulkhead and Bumblebee?” Megatron asked.

“They didn’t take the news so well,” Prowl said softly. “Megatron, it’s bad. Your memories are most likely irretrievable.”

“Oh…”

“Ratchet’s going to look at you again. He has to turn you off, but when you wake up we’ll still be here. Maybe Bulkhead and Bumblebee will be back by then.”

“It is fortunate I woke up so close to you all,” Megatron said hesitantly. “You will help me learn and, perhaps not remember, but recreate myself?” He looked at Optimus while he spoke, with a trust that burned.

“Megatron, we’ll be happy to help you recover. We won’t abandon you or let you get hurt again. You’re our friend—”  _ now _ — “—and friends support each other through these kinds of things. The others are angry but I know they’ll come around.”

It wasn’t a lie, not really, and he was satisfied for saying it.

“I’m going to start the examination now,” Ratchet said. “You’re going to go offline for a while.” He removed more panels from Megatron’s head and reached for a power switch.

“See you, everyone,” Megatron said, and his optics died.

“I have no idea if he’ll wake up again, for the record,” Ratchet said. “Allspark energy isn’t my area of expertise.”

“You didn’t mention that, Ratchet.”

“I figured it wasn’t important. This is the only way to do what you wanted, and if he doesn’t wake up, well, Bumblebee and Bulkhead get what  _ they _ wanted. Either way I’m a villain.” He dug his servos into Megatron’s circuits, and Optimus and Prowl both looked away.

It wasn’t that Optimus didn’t want to face his decision—the thought of servos rooting around in a processor made him squeamish. The sounds of sparks and metal clinks were bad enough. Sari and her dad stood just behind the door and poked their heads in to observe the surgery, unaffected due to their organic nature, he supposed.

The ordeal took about half an hour. Ratchet suddenly straightened, wiped some fluid off his servos, and addressed the room.

“They’re gone. I melted the corrupt memory cores out of his processor, so they’re completely unusable. He still has plenty of space for new memory formation, but he might be a bit dim on recall from now on. I’m going to try to turn him on.” He flicked a switch.

Megatron’s optics returned to their full glow. “Optimus? Prowl? ...Ratchet?”

“Right here, big bot.” Ratchet moved around to his face. “Well, your memories are gone, that’s for sure. Sorry.”

“Medics can’t always fix things?”

“No. That’s just the way it is.” He shrugged. “It’s a miracle you’re even alive, so you’ll just have to accept it.”

“I suppose I will. I see the others aren’t back.”

“Perhaps they just couldn’t face it yet,” Prowl said. “Maybe you’ll see them tomorrow.”

“Right now you should rest,” Ratchet said. “Don’t tax your processor too hard. Take it easy.”

“You’re leaving again?” He’d noticed them gathering on the elevator.

“I’m going to look for the others,” Optimus said. “Prowl, do you want to stay with him?”

“I will. Good luck.”

“Ratchet?”

“I guess I’ll head out with you, Prime.”

Bulkhead and Bumblebee were in the lobby, looking sour but calm. “Is it done?” Bulk asked.

“Yes,” Optimus said. “Megatron will never recover his memories. He could still read about himself in historical archives, but we can control what he gets pretty easily.”

“What if he sees something? What if he figures out who he used to be?” Bumblebee grabbed his horns. “What if other Decepticons show up looking for him?”

“We’ll handle everything as it comes,” Optimus said, not letting it show how unsettled he was. Those were all good questions, to which he had no answers.

“You still feel like you did the right thing, Prime?” Bulkhead asked. He sounded genuine. “Because I think I might agree with you. I was thinkin’ and...it would have been pretty crummy of us to just slag him off like that.”

Optimus paused. He glanced back to the shining tower, in the general area where Prowl was sitting with their former greatest enemy and newest friend. “I don’t know if it’s about right or wrong all the time,” he said. “I think sometimes it’s about what you can live with.”


End file.
